


But the Frittata—

by cypress_tree



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Kitchen Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 08:14:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14016039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cypress_tree/pseuds/cypress_tree
Summary: Written for an anonymous tumblr prompt: "can you write a fic in which raf fucks sonny in their kitchen because sonny was making them breakfast and looking all beautiful and house husband-y and raf NEEDS HIM right then?!"





	But the Frittata—

Rafael wakes up to the warmth of his duvet and the glow of filtered sunlight hitting his face.  He can hear noise in the kitchen, and smell the scent of coffee drifting down the hall.  Sonny must be making breakfast.  Rafael’s  _fiancé_  must be making breakfast.

Rafael relives the memory of last night’s proposal.  That soft look in Sonny’s eyes, the nervous wavering of his hand, holding the ring.  Rafael’s heart had nearly stopped, then it started beating so rapidly he was afraid he might pass out.  He had nodded and yelped “yes” louder than he meant to.  Sonny pulled him into a tight hug.  

Rafael looks down at the white-gold ring on his finger, admiring the shine of the metal in the light.  He’s still naked from last night’s celebratory proposal sex, so he rolls out of bed and pulls on grey sweatpants and a t-shirt.  He pads barefoot down the hall and stops outside the kitchen to find Sonny facing the other direction, completely absorbed in whatever’s happening on the stove in front of him.  He’s oblivious to Rafael’s presence.

For a moment, Rafael watches him.  Sonny is in sweatpants, too—the Fordham ones with the university logo on the side.  They’re hanging low on his hips, and when he shifts his weight to one foot, a sliver of bare skin peeks out from below his shirt.  Rafael’s mouth goes a little dry.  Sonny tugs his shirt back down, then sets his spatula aside and turns around.

“Jesus!” he shouts, startled.  “God, Raf, you scared the hell outta me.”

Rafael smirks and crosses the room to kiss him.  “Good morning.”

“Yeah, good morning, lemme just catch my breath.”

Rafael huffs a laugh and peeks at the stove.  There’s a skillet on the front burner, cradling a frittata that’s just turning crispy at the edges.  It’s studded with tiny pieces of ham and fresh broccoli.

“Looks good,” Rafael says.  Sonny reaches around him and turns off the burner.

“It’s gotta bake.”  He kisses Rafael on the nape, then shoos him away and slides the frittata into the oven.  “Fifteen minutes,” he says.  He picks up a towel and starts wiping down the counter.

Rafael pours himself a cup of coffee—still hot—and watches Sonny from the other side of the table.  Sonny looks so good in this kitchen.  He moves around fluidly, as if cooking here is a dance, and he knows all the steps.  He hangs the towel on the oven door, then reaches up for plates.  He grabs two glasses in one hand, pulls utensils from a drawer, and closes it with a cock of his hip.  Rafael watches the lines of him.  How he stretches and turns.  The way those hips move.

It’s ridiculous, but Rafael is getting hard.  Right here, sipping coffee in the middle of the kitchen.  He puts down his mug and takes a deep breath, but it does nothing to quell the embers burning low in his belly.  Sonny starts humming to himself—whatever song he has stuck in his head.  His face is so happy and relaxed and Rafael is overwhelmed with the desire to give him pleasure.

Sonny spins around and sets the dishes on the table.  He glances up at Rafael, and something familiar flickers behind his eyes.

“What’s up?” he asks.

Rafael shakes his head.  He takes Sonny’s hand and pulls him close, then kisses him long and slow.  Sonny smiles when they part.

“Happy first day of our engagement,” he murmurs.

Rafael kisses him again.  He crowds Sonny against the counter and presses his growing erection against Sonny’s thigh.  Sonny moans into him, his hands gripping Rafael a little tighter.

“Did you wake up like this?” he asks.  “You should have said something.”

Rafael is too embarrassed to admit that he didn’t—that he got this way in the past ten minutes, just from watching Sonny move around the kitchen.  He slips a hand under Sonny’s shirt and strokes his skin, so soft and warm.  Sonny pulls the shirt over his head and tosses it on the table behind Rafael.

“Better,” Rafael says.  He nestles his face against Sonny’s neck and kisses him there, over and over.  He knows Sonny’s neck is sensitive—he takes advantage of it every chance he gets.  He rubs the scruff of his cheek against him, and Sonny shivers.  “Can I fuck you?” Rafael asks, lips brushing against Sonny’s ear.  He can feel Sonny’s breath catch in his chest.

“Yeah,” Sonny gasps.  “Yeah, please.”

Rafael turns him around, and Sonny leans forward with his arms against the counter.

“Wait right here,” Rafael says.  “I’ll get the lube.”

“No, hold on—”  Sonny reaches for the junk drawer.

“God, please don’t tell me we keep lube in the kitchen.”

Sonny sifts through the drawer’s contents: a roll of tape, a pair of sunglasses Rafael thought he lost, a sheet of commemorative stamps that Sonny had insisted on buying, but never used.  He finds a tiny foil packet and holds it up, looking over his shoulder, proudly.

“Where did you get this?” Rafael groans.

“Remember the Rivera case a couple months ago?  We interviewed the vic at her dorm.  They have safe sex supplies in the bathrooms.”

“You stole this from a hall full of college students?”

“It wasn’t the only one there, Raf.”

Rafael shakes his head, but then Sonny bends over in front of him, and he decides to forget it.  He slips the packet into his pocket and focuses on Sonny, reaching forward to fondle him through his pants.  Sonny hums.

“Mmm, that feels good.”

Rafael presses kisses to his shoulders and the top of his spine.  Sonny arches his back and lets Rafael rub against his ass.  The tips of Sonny’s ears are turning pink.  Rafael can feel him getting hard.  He tugs Sonny’s pants down and lets them fall to the floor.  He feels, rather than hears Sonny laugh.  Rafael keeps rubbing against him, the cloth barrier between his cock and Sonny’s skin making him ache in just the right way.  Sonny presses backwards.

“You can’t fuck me with your pants on,” he says, his voice low like a growl.

Rafael swallows.  He takes the packet of lube from his pocket and tears it open, pouring half of it over his fingers.  He puts his clean hand on the small of Sonny’s back, and teases his perineum with the other.  Sonny groans and bends over farther.  Rafael slips a fingertip inside of him.

“Mmm, god yes,” Sonny gasps.  Rafael’s heart is beating hard.  He slides his finger further in, holding tight to Sonny’s hip with his other hand.  “Just like that, Raf, give me another.”

Rafael is breathing hard through his mouth, and he hasn’t even touched himself yet.  He lets Sonny acclimate a little longer, then adds a second finger, marveling over the high-pitched sound of Sonny’s whine.  He lets go of Sonny’s hip and gives himself a quick rub through his pants.  He  _aches_.

“Hey,” Sonny says.  “Don’t fill up on appetizers or you won’t be hungry for the main course.”

It’s a bad joke, so Rafael punishes him by crooking his fingers in just the right spot.  Sonny yelps in surprise and pushes back, trying to take him in further.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” he mutters.  “Oh my god, do that again.”  Rafael does, and Sonny’s head drops down into his arms.  He moans softly and opens his legs wider.  “Another,” he mumbles.  “One more finger.”

Rafael doesn’t hesitate.  His heart is beating a mile a minute, and he starts rutting against Sonny’s thigh for friction.  He’s starting to get indecisive over whether he wants to fuck Sonny with his cock, or keep using his fingers.  Sonny is hot and tight, and so responsive.

“I want you,” Sonny groans, into his elbow.  “I want your dick, Raf.”

The oven timer goes off, and Rafael jumps so sharply that he brushes Sonny’s prostate and makes him shout.

“Fuck,” Sonny says.  “The frittata.”

“Screw the frittata.”  Rafael pulls out his fingers and slicks his cock with the rest of the lube.  Sonny laughs against the countertop; the sound of it is music to Rafael’s ears.  He presses the head of his cock against Sonny’s ass, and Sonny’s laughter dies away.

“Please,” Sonny whimpers.

Rafael slides inside and groans.  He holds his breath, then sucks another one in, and realizes belatedly that the lube is scented like strawberries.  Sonny lifts his head, turning so that Rafael can see his profile.  His face is pink, his eyes half-lidded.

“Perfect,” he murmurs.  Rafael thrusts into him slowly, and Sonny sinks back down.  Rafael reaches around to touch him.  Sonny is harder than Rafael thought.  He’s not sure how long he’ll last.

“The frittata will burn,” Sonny moans, between heavy breaths.

“Well then you’d better come quick.” Rafael picks up the pace, because the thought of Sonny getting fucked, close to coming, and still worried about making Rafael a decent breakfast is the strangest turn-on.  Sonny’s cock is hot in his hand; it’s leaking so much.  Rafael’s hips snap forward over and over, filling the kitchen with slapping sounds, and causing Sonny to make little grunts with each thrust.

“Raf,” Sonny says.  “Rafael.”  His arms flail out against the counter, and Rafael stills for a moment, pushing deep into him and jerking him off, giving a twist to the head of his cock.  Sonny shouts.  Rafael thinks faintly “ _wait—the cabinets_ —” but he doesn’t have time to do anything before Sonny is coming all over them.  “Oh my god,” Sonny groans.  “Fuck, keep going, keep going.”

Rafael fucks him fast, without any rhythm, until he finishes, coming deep inside Sonny, fingers on his hips so tight, they’ll leave marks.  Sonny murmurs “yes” and a variety of curse words.  He sighs happily as Rafael shudders and collapses on top of him.

“Raf,” he says, after a moment.  “The frittata.”

Rafael snorts and presses a kiss to Sonny’s back.  “Get your damned frittata.”  He pulls out and wanders to the living room on shaky legs.  He finds the tissue box and starts cleaning himself off as he walks back into the kitchen.  Sonny is smiling down at the frittata, clearly pleased.

“It’s a little more golden brown than my usual, but it’s not burnt.”  He sets it on the stove.  Rafael offers him a couple tissues, and Sonny takes them with a look of satisfaction.  “You know, what I really need is a shower.”

“After breakfast,” Rafael says.  “I’ll join you.”  Sonny waggles his eyebrows.  Rafael frowns.  “If you think I can get it up a third time in twelve hours, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Sonny laughs.  He throws his tissues in the trash and pulls Rafael closer by both hands.

“I’m marrying an old man,” he says, fondly.

“Yeah?  I’d like to see you try to get hard again.”

“You would, huh?”

Rafael arches an eyebrow.  “I’d bet against you, but there’s no point, since we’ll be sharing a bank account soon.”

It’s the most innocent statement, but it makes Sonny blush and smile.  Rafael is filled with love for this man.  He takes Sonny into his arms.  “We should put our pants back on,” he sighs.  “And someone has to clean your come off the kitchen cabinet.”

“ _Someone_ , huh?”

“Well it’s  _your_  come.”

“Yeah, but who put it there?”

“Um—you?”

“But you made me do it.  I was under duress.”

“No you weren’t.  Who gave you a law degree?”

“Uh, it’s written on my pants, lemme grab ‘em.”

Rafael laughs, which causes Sonny to laugh, which causes Rafael to hold him tighter.  Sonny tilts his head down and presses a kiss to his lips.

“You wanna have breakfast?” he asks, quietly.

Rafael nods.  “Yeah, that sounds good.”  He squeezes Sonny one more time, then lets him go.  Sonny catches sight of his ring and smiles.  

 

\---

**Author's Note:**

> [can also be found here, on tumblr!!](http://cypress-tree.tumblr.com/post/171985040834/okay-trying-this-again-can-you-write-a-fic-in)


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